Sweaty Sex in a Rainforest GSR
by sarapals with past50
Summary: Gil Grissom arrives in Costa Rica and his path stops at Sara Sidle. This is the night following "Hearts and Happiness"--some sweet smut, easy on the eyes. All fluff. Complete! It's rated "M" even tho a minor wrote it!


_A/N: The youngest of our group wrote this one at the request of a faithful reader (you know who you are!!). And we are leaving this week for a long vacation--so thanks for reading, for reviews, and for waiting for our next story (already in progress) that will be posted around August 2. _

**Sweaty Sex in a Rainforest**

When one lived in the city, it was easy to forget how dark the night was. Yet slowly, eyes adjusted so he could see the dark silhouettes of trees through the triangle of netting. Beyond the canopy, the sky shown with a million lights, but here, in the tent, everything was shadows, dark on darkness. Night sounds filled the air—all those creatures that slept during sunlight hours came out to breathe, to hunt and eat, to mate.

Sara had left him, tucked inside this tent, netting fastened, flaps pulled back in an unsuccessful effort to catch what wind might drift into the camp. The narrow cot he lay on was covered in more netting, his shoes sat on a shelf. Sara had taken his clothes—his shirt and pants, even his boxers, he had worn today. So he waited wearing a fresh tee shirt and boxes—his spare pair. He had arrived mid-afternoon, hot, sweaty, and unsure of what or who he would find.

The path had ended and Sara was there—waiting. No, he thought, she was not waiting; she was working, taking a photograph just as she had done a thousand times. He could not remember, did not know, how long they stood together, neither saying a word, arms wrapped around each other. He remembered lips pressed against hers, remembered the dampness on her cheeks as she cried.

Afterwards, for hours, it seemed, time passed as a blur. He met the one person who knew he was coming, he ate something; other researchers and volunteers began to arrive in camp and everyone talked. Sara never left his side; at times smiling her broad face changing grin, other times, he would catch a different look—one he did not want to think about now. Sara had shown him the shower—a tin square with a black tank sitting on its roof, the latrine—a more permanent structure with some kind of gray water flushing system and the only place with a solar powered fan, and their drinking water source. Finally, she took him to her tent and just as he knew, it was neat, orderly, a book beside her bed, a few things stacked on the second cot.

He heard hesitation in her voice when she said, "You can stay with me." It was almost a question. He realized she had not asked how long he would be there. He placed his backpack inside the tent and before anything else could be said, someone rang a bell that announced meal time. With that came more talk, two dozen people gathered underneath a large covered area talking at once, passing bowls of rice and beans, cabbage and tomatoes, squash and fried plantains. He ate everything.

"Get use to beans and rice, rice and beans—we have it three times a day out here!" A young man explained from across the table.

Other voices joined him, saying "Don't let Henry hear you complain about his food." "Beans and rice are the perfect foods!" "To have a hamburger." "In your dreams!"

Small lights came on in the area as the sun disappeared. Sara said, "Come on. As a guest, you get the first shower tonight."

She explained the shower operation, hanging his change of clothing on a nail outside the door and taking his sweaty clothing passed over the top of the shower door. He tried to be quick as he turned water on, off to soap, on again to rinse. The towel Sara passed to him was little more than a washcloth.

She led him back to the tent, cleared the cot of her belongings, explained the need to keep shoes underneath netting, and said "I'll be back."

He checked his watch. Nearly an hour had passed as the sound of human activity had gradually grown quiet, replaced by the night calls and noises of birds and insects. He heard the crunch of footsteps approaching the tent.

"I'm back." Sara said as she unzipped the tent. "It takes a while for everyone to shower and I washed your clothes. Well, not really washed—we don't have a washer—I rinsed them out, hung them on a line to dry."

His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he could see her moving, hanging up a shirt, pulling netting over her bed.

"We have to pump water into the shower barrel every night—that's what took so long. I was the last in line." She was seated on the other bed, untying her shoes. "Before you put on your shoes, always check inside—scorpions love shoes." She had found a flashlight and flicked it a couple of times. "This is beside the bed—should you need it tonight." She stood, unfastened her pants, and stepped out of them.

His breath caught in his throat. He could see her back as she turned to hang her pants on a line stretched across the tent—the whiteness of her tank top and her panties broken by her pale creamy skin as she reached to clip the pants to the line. Heat built between his legs, his breathing almost stopped.

Sara spoke again, "You haven't said how long you can stay." She remained standing with her back to him, taking much longer to hang her pants than it should.

"Sara." He whispered her name.

Slowly, she turned. "Yeah."

His hand fumbled with the netting before finding the opening. "Come here." When she hesitated, he said, "Please." She came, closing the net before settling at his feet, crossing legs in front of her. He sat up and reached for her hands, folding his own around hers. "I'm here, Sara. To stay. As long as you want me."

He knew what she did as plainly as if it were mid-day. Her eyes rolled upward before closing, her chin quivered, her eyes filled with tears.

He whispered, "Don't cry. I came to be with you, Sara. You. I don't care where you are, honey." He heard the quiet sob escape from her mouth. He touched her shoulders and pulled her into his arms, against his chest, wrapping arms around her as he felt her arms enclose him.

He breathed in her unique, intoxicating scent—one that hot, humid, dense air of a rainforest, the damp sweat covering their bodies could never hide; one he would remember and know all his life. His mouth hovered just above hers when a rush of sensation swept through him, coming from her, he thought. Her palm flattened against his chest and she lifted herself away from him, mumbling some word. A low, hungry groan developed in his chest just before his mouth closed over hers.

A different awareness whipped through his body as cool air swept into the tent. Rain—her word had been rain, he thought. He tightened his hold as her hands slipped upward to encircle his neck. His hands moved to her lower back, underneath her panties to touch her cleft, to trace its line as he cupped fingers and lifted her backside against his own aroused body.

"Sara." He drew a deep breath. He kissed her again, deeply this time. She responded, parting her lips for him, pushing fingers through his hair. With the kiss, they shifted to be side-by-side; his hand found the edge of her shirt and quickly removed it. When she felt his palm close over her breast, he heard the sound of pleasure in a soft, husky whisper. His thumb circled her nipple.

"You are beautiful." He said, knowing she smiled, feeling her lips against his neck. There was enough light to show him her expression of passion, of need, of understanding, and, most of all, of forgiveness.

She pulled his shirt off with ease and moved long, slim fingers across his chest, along his shoulders, tracing his jaw before he moved lips to her breast causing shivers to pulse through her body. Her lips touched his throat, his shoulder causing a shuddering beat from his heart. She felt it against her palm and glided her hand from his chest to the waistband of his boxers. He made some sound, a half moan, half muffled laugh, and captured her exploring hand. If he did not stop her, he would not be able to finish what he intended.

He brought her hand back to his shoulder. "It's been a long time—I mean to enjoy you." She smiled again. He positioned himself above her on the narrow bed and his hand returned to her panties. One smooth, swift move and her underwear came off; another quick push of his hand and his erection was pushing against her bare hip.

His hand found that sacred triangle of feminine intimacy and his breath stopped as his fingertip traced, lightly, between her legs, finding a warm, fluid, soft place. She twisted against him, seeking, aching for him.

"Yes, Gil." She moved against him, her hands seeking him. She was as near the tipping point as he—absence, abstinence, loneliness crashed into pleasure centers in their brains. He rolled on top of her, separating her thighs with a delicate pressure, aware his erection was probing the damp, throbbing entrance of her body, easing into her body, steadily filling her, his gasp filling her ears just as hers met his.

She had hands in his hair, pulling him into her, kissing, moving slowly with him, both sensing the limits of their usual exquisite control, pushing the other to this delicious, aching passion of sweet tension. His hands held her buttocks, at the gentle rise above her thigh; his fingers moved along the separating cleft, searching, feeling the heat generated by her body, pressing her onto him as her fluids covered his hand.

He felt her breathing coming quickly as her hips moved, lifting against his, as she clenched around him. A gasp. She moaned. He knew she was in the grip of a force that would carry her into the sparkling whirlpool of passion. He moved quickly, sensing her impending climax; her body tensed. He covered her mouth with his own as an astonished gasp of pleasure burst from her lungs. Seconds later, he joined her as waves of passion drove him deep inside her. Together, they tumbled into that warm, wet vortex.

Sometime later, the rain came, beating against the tent roof and providing a sense of privacy inside. Their desire fulfilled for a time, Sara talked, asking about everyone in Vegas, laughing at his tales of Hank, asking again if he had really retired, had come to her. He knew she found his response almost unbelievable.

"Yes," he said as he combed his hand through her hair. "I'm here with you as long as you want."

Her head nestled against his shoulder. The cot he had thought was too narrow was just right to keep her snug against him. The rain had cooled the air inside the tent so both were wrapped in the white sheet.

"Here—as long as we are here." She sighed but did not raise her head.

"No, dear. As long as we are anywhere—wherever you are, I will be, until you grow tired of my face, of my old body, my bad knees, and my bad habits. I will not leave unless you push me out, tell me to go." He kissed her hair as her hand found his. "Loving you is what I will do the rest of my life."

Sara lifted her head, moving her lips to his. She would have said something, but she much preferred to kiss him instead.

_A/N: Thanks for reading!! _


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